There’s something about 4PM that feels like a glitch in the day—a liminal stretch of time where light hits at an odd angle and everything feels just slightly… off. It’s the same disorienting magic that drives Felicity’s new EP, 4PM In The Morning, a body of work that thrives in the in-between: between night and day, humor and heartbreak, reality and the strange stories we tell ourselves when the world stops making sense.

Felicity has been quietly but steadily carving a lane for herself in alt-pop, turning life’s emotional detours into songs that are as relatable as they are theatrical. With 4PM In The Morning, she takes that craft to another level—balancing razor-sharp wit with gut-punch vulnerability, lo-fi intimacy with lush, cinematic swells. Built around recent singles like the lo-fi haze of “Half Sad” and the self-deprecating yet defiant “I’ll Have What He’s Having”—both of which landed coveted spots on Spotify and Apple Music playlists—the project finds its full shape in three new tracks, each pulling the listener deeper into Felicity’s singular world.

photo credit Hannah Gray Hall

At the center is the focus track “Denver Airport,” a sprawling, string-soaked fever dream that takes one of America’s most notorious conspiracy theories and repurposes it as a metaphor for heartbreak. It’s an emotional ghost story where dead-end tunnels mirror dead-end relationships, ghost sightings blur into ghosted memories, and grief comes laced with dark humor—down to a throwaway line about poisoned coffee. Opening in a hush of vocals and guitar before blooming into a full orchestral swell, the song mirrors the slow unraveling of its narrator’s composure until all that’s left is the ache.

The rest of the EP follows suit in its emotional range: there’s the fluttering, acoustic “Carnivorous Butterflies,” a dizzy portrait of a secret crush; “Bad Waste of Good Oxygen,” which channels white-hot anger into cathartic release; and moments of surreal clarity scattered like Polaroids across the tracklist. Together, they form a mosaic of sleepless nights and sideways mornings—chaotic, dramatic, existential, but never without flashes of absurdity and hope.

“I called it 4PM In The Morning because that’s genuinely how my brain has felt,” Felicity says. “The world feels upside down. Up is down, day is night—and I’m just awake, writing songs and watching the sun come up because I haven’t gone to bed yet.”

It’s an offering for anyone who’s ever tried to make sense of themselves when nothing else makes sense—an invitation to laugh, cry, and find solidarity in the weirdness. With 4PM In The Morning, Felicity isn’t just releasing an EP; she’s staking her claim as one of alt-pop’s most intriguing new voices.

We sat down with Felicity to talk ghost stories, poisoned coffee, upside-down days, and the art of turning chaos into catharsis.

MUNDANE: Your track about your first heartbreak feels so vividly teenage. What was it like revisiting that time in your writing?

FELICITY: I used to live in Denver for a year during my senior year of high school, and that’s where my first little high school heartbreak happened. In the lyrics, I put a lot of blame on the other person because, honestly, I was still kind of a kid going through it. It was one of the first tracks I wrote for the EP where the production — strings, piano, guitar — really came together and set the tone for the rest of the project.

MUNDANE: You’ve called the EP a reflection of “emotional jet lag.” Can you unpack that?

FELICITY: My family’s on the other side of the world, and I’m here in Nashville. That kind of constant disconnection feeds into the songs. 4pm in the Morning became a way to paint that picture — the late-night spiraling, the displacement, the weird in-between feeling of being awake when the rest of your world is asleep.

MUNDANE: What felt different about making this EP compared to your debut?

FELICITY: They’re connected, but I wanted this one to show growth. I’m still proud of my first EP — it was the first body of work I ever put into the world, and it represented me at the time. But the songwriting was a little more immature. Back then, every song was “I have a broken heart and it’s the boy’s fault” or “this happened in the industry and it’s that person’s fault.” This time, I wanted more self-awareness and vulnerability, which didn’t come naturally to me at first.

MUNDANE: Let’s talk about the title track. Why 4pm in the Morning?

FELICITY: After 3am, things can go in any direction. You’re alone with your thoughts, and you start to spiral. I wanted to write about those moments in early adulthood when you feel completely isolated — but really, we’re all going through the same shit. Somehow, putting it into music makes it feel less lonely. And 4am… it just gets weird at that time.

MUNDANE: There’s a duality in your songs — self-deprecating but defiant, dreamy yet hyper-aware. Is that you, or your generation?

FELICITY: Honestly, I feel like there’s a war inside of me all the time. But from talking to friends, I know we’re all going through similar things in our own ways. I’ve moved around so much that sometimes I feel like an alien who doesn’t belong anywhere. But that also exposed me to music I might not have discovered otherwise — like when I lived in Cape Town and listened almost exclusively to CDs in my mom’s car.

MUNDANE: Your production has this bold, cinematic quality. Is your studio chaos or control?

FELICITY: Mostly controlled. I don’t always know where ideas come from, but once I’m clear on one, the choices fall into place. If I’m not sure what I want, it can be chaotic — but it’s a learning process.

MUNDANE: Your debut EP had that unforgettable title, You Take Me to Dinner, but You’ll Never Feed My Soul. Do titles find you or do you find them?

FELICITY: They definitely find me. Usually, I write the song before I’ve even processed what I’m going through. Once the song exists, then I start figuring it out.

MUNDANE: Songwriting as therapy?

FELICITY: Exactly. I’ve always had walls up, even as a kid, and I’m still not naturally a vulnerable person. Songwriting forces those walls down. It’s an exercise in vulnerability and self-awareness. Still a work in progress, but I don’t shy away from much — unless it’s going to piss off my mum.

MUNDANE: Pop music can be very polished. What’s something you wish more pop songs would admit?

FELICITY: I think we’re in a really cool era for female pop — artists like Chapel are fearless with their lyrics. But we could always use more of that raw honesty.

MUNDANE: You seem to have a good relationship with your label.

FELICITY: Totally. I have complete creative freedom there, which I know is rare. They respect what I want, they’ve always had my back, and we all believe in the same things.

MUNDANE: Last words?

FELICITY: My name is Felicity and my sophomore EP, 4pm in the Morning, is out now.